The Supply Closet Series
by Anastasia Athene
Summary: The Supply Closet Series: Kisses The Camera Never Caught. Yep, that's right. Basically what the title implies: Kisses that were never seen by the camera, all taking place in everyone's favorite private makeout spot: the supply closet.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, Office fans! This is just a new story, a series I thought up based on a challenge I received over at the Office Fanworks community on lj...Don't worry, Road Trips will be updated soon. I just thought I'd get this started, too. :) Basically, it's what the title implies: kisses the camera never saw. Some of them will be very AU, very unexpected (as in, not exactly canon.) But I'll start you off with a canon one: Kelly and Ryan. Kelly's a little...fierce in this one, be warned. It's a slight departure for her, but I think it's still in character. Anyway, enjoy, and please review! Thanks! **

**The Supply Closet Series: Kisses The Camera Never Caught**

One: Dragged

"Ryan, I need to talk to you."

You look up and it's Kelly, but her voice sounds strained, like she's just talking through her teeth, and god, you really don't want to talk to her right now, so you just sigh and make up some lame excuse. Honestly, didn't she get the hint when you stopped returning her calls?

"Uh, I'm actually kind of busy right now, um—"

She glares at you. There is a game of FreeCell, half-done, on your computer.

"Right. What_ever_." She says, sounding like a very pissed off version of her normal fifteen-year-old persona, and is it just you, or did her voice get lower? You really can't be sure, because she reaches down and yanks up on your tie and suddenly you're standing up.

"What—?" Obviously talking seems to be out of the question. She doesn't even listen to you, and drags you by your tie, like you're a bad puppy or something, out of the office. Thank God the cameras are pretty much focused on something Jim and Pam are talking about in the break room, because as much as you don't give a crap about this office or what they think of you, well, being dragged like this is really really embarrassing. And—

"Where are we—?"

"Shut _up_, Ryan." She tells you, and wow, you listen to her, because you've never heard her voice like this, and truth be told, it's kind of scaring you.

Then suddenly she flings open the door to the supply closet and pushes you roughly inside, and you almost trip over your own shoes.

"Jesus, Kelly. If it's really that important, you could have just—"

And then she slaps you across the face. Her hand comes away fast and you know your cheek is going to be red, because _jeez_, that fucking _stung_!

"What the hell?"

And that's all you manage to get out, because then she's yanking on your tie and kissing you so fiercely you think your mouth will be bruised in the morning, and you're so confused as to what's going on that it takes you awhile to kiss back, and when you do, it's like you're fighting her every step of the way. This is not the demure, flirtatious Kelly you made out with last month. That Kelly giggled when you moved your hands the slightest inch, smiled against your lips, let _your_ tongue do most of the work.

This Kelly, on the other hand, is proclaiming her dominance. If you were sitting down, she would be straddling you, no doubt about it. There is no giggling. She's pushing against you, pulling so hard on your tie that okay, maybe you're losing some oxygen, but hey, that's all right, because you're scared that if you pull away too soon, this new Kelly might kill you. Seriously.

So when she lets go of your tie and your mouth, you swallow slowly and look at her. You're both panting and her eyes are bright. You open your mouth but you can't seem to form any words, let alone coherent sentences. She kind of glares at you, and there's an exasperated look in her eyes.

"I hate you," she tells you, and now you're even more confused. "You're an ass."

Then she kisses you again, hard and violent, and turns and strides out of the closet. The door slams behind her.

You look around the closet and touch your lips hesitantly.

You have no idea what just happened.

But truth be told, you kind of liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, everyone! This installment features our favorite couple, but it's a little darker, a little sadder. It's set directly after Conflict Resolution and does not deal with the finale at all. I guess that's all you need to know! Enjoy, please review, and check out my newest story, Night Stand :) Thanks!**

**The Supply Closet Series. Chapter 2: Jim and Pam**

_"Pam, it wasn't her. I'm the one who complained about you."_

The photographer takes six more pictures after that. Pam doesn't even remember the flashes going off; there's just Michael's voice and Jim's voice at the same time in her head, like some strange recording: "One, two, three—Pam, it wasn't her, one, two, three—I'm the one who complained about you, one, two, three—"

When the photographer finally leaves, all Pam can do is push past everyone, out of the office and down to the supply closet in the hallway—she would have gone outside but it's cold and she doesn't want to wait for the elevator, either.

So she goes into the supply closet, knowing that he's watching her the entire time, but it's funny because she doesn't fucking _care _anymore. She doesn't sit down, because she knows if she does she'll never stand up again; she'll just end up curling into the fetal position on a box of Salmon 462B and never ever leaving, and she doesn't want that. So instead she just leans against the furthest shelf, her back to the door, and waits.

She hasn't even been in the closet for a minute when she hears the door open.

"Go away, Jim." She hisses. She knows it's him because who fucking _else_ would it be? He always has to make sure things are okay with her, after all.

Sometimes that fact makes her hurt, everywhere.

There's a bitter tone in his voice as he speaks.

"Pam, I didn't think Toby was going to write it down. I—I was having a bad week, and I don't know—"

"You don't _know?_" she hisses, finally turning around. "What don't you know, Jim? What does that even mean? You know, I am getting _married_ in two months. I need to—I can't do it at home. I have to do it here. When have I ever shoved it in your face?"

The look on his face speaks of incredulity, and he makes a noise of absolute frustration.

"Every day, Pam! Every fucking day! Every day, I look up at you, but instead of smiling back, you're attached to your phone, calling the florist, or looking at bridesmaid's dresses in a catalog, or trying to make Roy choose a band. I just don't think—" and then his voice just sounds tired. "—I just don't think I can take much more."

Something inside her is bubbling, and she says in a low, hurt voice, "What do you have against this wedding, Jim? First you schedule a vacation, now you complain about my wedding plans? What is your problem with me?"

The words are absurd to her, even as she speaks them, but she doesn't stop herself from saying them because that would be admitting that she knows something, realizes what is going on. But he sees through her, just like he always does.

He doesn't even say anything, just looks at her as if he knows she's lying, as if he knows she realizes everything, and now she's even more angry. How does he do that? How does he just _look _at her, and everything he's thinking is so clear? It's not fair.

"What do you want from me, Jim?" she asks, and his face cracks thinly like blown glass.

"I don't—"

"Tell me what you want, Jim," she says, and it almost sounds like pleading. "_Show _me."

A moment flashes and suddenly he's moving so fast and so forward and he cups her face in his hands and kisses her, and there are hot angry tears behind her eyes because she _knew _this was what he wanted, but she always pretended she had no clue. Her mouth opens of its own accord and his tongue is warm and wet and this is when the tears begin to fall.

When he finally pulls away, there is a soft smacking sound as their lips disconnect, and there are still tears falling down her face. His eyes are sad, too, but he doesn't look away from her.

"I want to take that transfer to Stamford," he says, and his voice is so scratchy and low, like he's not sure it still works. Pam feels a sharp pain somewhere below her stomach.

"What? Why?" She can't stop herself from saying it, and he looks at her with a bit of contempt in his eyes.

"Don't do that, Pam. Don't pretend like you don't know anymore. That's gone." He turns to go, and when he opens the door, he turns back and says, "By the way, I won't be here tomorrow. I called Jan about the transfer and she said she had some time for an interview in the morning. I just thought I'd let you know."

The words are so casual, but his voice is so cold and empty and drained. All she can do is nod. He gives her one last look and the door closes with a dissonant click.

She finally sits down, on box of Salmon 462B, and cries.


End file.
